


Mr. Hiddleston Will See You Now

by ladylaufehson



Category: 50 Shades of Grey - E. L. James, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Eating Disorders, F/M, Jaguar UK, Masochism, Roses, Smut, Suit Kink, Tie Kink, dom!Tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylaufehson/pseuds/ladylaufehson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is beautiful in a way that is radiant, and she knows that she will never understand how. </p><p>That's the most enticing thing in the world.</p><p>The darkness and mystery of being undiscovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I awake once more to the sound of retching, and throw a glowering look to the source of the noise for guaranteeing me a sleepless night. Stretching from my makeshift pallet on the carpet, I pad over to the lump of blankets on one side of the mattress, bent over a gleaming trash can put next to him. Waiting until all traces of the foul-smelling water were surely gone, I merely sigh and pick up the damp washcloth on the nightstand, wiping the bile off his lips like a mother wiping their dirty child's mouth.

"Alexander Summers, I won't say I told you so. Even though it's the only thing screaming in my mind at the moment, since I'm  _such_  a good flatmate, I'll keep my mouth shut."

He merely groans, and attempts to pull the sheets closer to him. 

"I  _told_  you not to have any more after that fourth glass of vodka. But no, oh 'I'm Alex and I'm all strong and mighty and can keep my alcohol down, so I'll just have a bit more.' Well, what good has that done you now? You're too damn hungover, not to mention you ruined my one and only dress last night." I say with a grimace, remembering the vomit soaking down the front of the simple black fabric, and shudder. Still, no response from him. I get up from the edge of the bed where I'd been sitting, throw a hoodie on top of my ratty sweats and grab my wallet from the dresser.

"I'm going to the grocer's because I need some stuff. Plus you're dehydrated and I love you enough to keep you alive," Kissing the top of Alex's head, I tuck him in tighter before heading down the narrow staircase of our flat. "Asshole."

 

Sainsbury's was teeming with the poor souls who had to work on a Saturday morning, coffee in hand and dressed sharply. One unlucky man must've been hungover as well; in his stupor to fix his crooked tie, he set his cup on the edge of a shelf, after which it promptly fell over and splattered on his shoes, eliciting a curse. People in the aisle immediately rushed to his aid and produced wads of tissues from their handbags, to which the man began mopping up his mess. I giggled, and continued on my path, muttering about how these kinds of people must surely be taken advantage of in the future, the unlucky lot. 

Reaching the pharmacy department, I headed straight for the section reserved specially for hangovers; London, and England as a whole, was known for their excessive drinking in the pubs. I honestly didn't see what all the hype was about with getting drunk, since beer tasted absolutely awful to me. One sip of Alex's from last night, and I instantly went to the bathroom to spend the next ten minutes washing my mouth out in the sink from the horrid taste. Reaching for the Pepto-Bismol and two bottles of Pedialyte, I threw them into my basket before heading on over to the pharmacist's counter.

"Allo, how can I help you today miss?" A middle aged-man greets me, dressed in the white coat I've come to recognize so easily.

"I'm here to pick up two refills of progestogen, please."

"Last name?"

"Carlton."

"Yeah, yeah, definitely. It'll be just a minute."

"No problem." I say, whipping out my phone and checking the weather. Alex picked a good day to be hungover; it was the ideal sick/stay in day with the menacing rainstorm approaching quickly. I groan inwardly, though. Catching the tube to get to work would be an experience today. 

"Okay, this'll be 10 pounds. Would you like a bag?"

"No thank you, I've got a basket already." Digging out the correct amount of change, I place it on the counter and tuck my reciept into my purse before whirling around, and coming face-to-face with a man staring curiously down at me, an unreadable look in his eyes. 

"Excuse me." I mutter, trying to move past him. 

"No, excuse  _me._ " He grins, blocking my way. So this was the game he was going to play.

I look around, and no one else seems to be here. The pharmacist has disappeared behind the multiple racks of  medicine, and his assistant is hard at work in the back room. 

"What exactly do you want, now?" I snap, looking anywhere but at the man's eyes, afraid they'd make me do things I usually wouldn't. He's wearing a tan sweater that hugs every inch of his torso, with deep brown jeans that seem to shine every time he moves his legs. The sleeves of the sweater are rolled up to the elbows, showing off his toned forearms and elegant hands. I'm so caught up in observing him that I almost don't hear his response.

"You, of course." 

As if my heart wasn't beating quickly enough before. Now it's a pounding staccato against my ribs, threatening to burst out of my ribcage at any moment. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." I try and muster in my most confident voice, but my tongue catches on the last word, eliciting a twitch from his lips. They're so lush, and curl around his speech in the most delicious of ways...

I want those lips on mine. 

"I'm sure you do, Miss Carlton. Oh, and I think you spilled some of your blush powder on your cheeks," he smirks. 

"I don't wear makeup." I reply in a matched tone. "I don't have time for it."

"That obviously explains the eyeliner and lipstick in your basket."

Shit."Those are for a friend."

"Is the birth control for her too?" 

"Why are you so interested in my personal life? I don't even know your name." I retort, obviously trying to look annoyed, but somehow...I find it hot.

"Hiddleston," his velvety voice breathes. 

"That your surname or first?" I blurt out.  _Damn, stop making a fool out of yourself!_

"Surname, darling." 

Okay, now that hit a nerve. "Number one," I snarl, "don't call me 'darling'. Number two: you're going to make me late for work because you've been standing here for the last fifteen minutes trying to seduce me or whatever. Number three: since you're so interested in knowing about me, I think I have the right to do the same of you. So what exactly are you doing with-" I say as I peer into his own shopping basket, "candles, masking tape, and rope? Do you have some house renovating to do?"

"You could say that." The sinister grin is back.

"Well then I daresay the both of us have work to do, and I'd hate to keep us any longer. So goodbye, Mr. Hiddleston." I force my way past him and march towards the cashier, but not before he can grab my arm, pulling me closer to him. His mouth is literally inches from my knuckles.

"Oh, Miss Carlton, if only you knew." he smiles. "I have all the time in the world."

"Well then go find another person to spend it with, because I don't."

"Oh, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" Lowering his face to mine, for a split second I think he's going to kiss me, but instead his hot breath ghosts over my earlobe. "Until next time, Miss Carlton."

I stand there, stunned and obviously uncomfortable with all the heat radiating off my body in all the wrong places, until I have the sense to jerk my arm from his grasp. "Mr. Hiddleston."

 

Fumbling with the keys to the flat, it takes me another whole minute to finally fit the correct one into the lock and open the door. Groceries in hand, I troop to the kitchen and rip open a package of pills, downing one before going to check on Alex.

"Alex? Where are you?" I call, finding the bedroom empty.

"In here." he says wearily, splayed across the sofa in the living space with remote in hand. "What took you so long to get only a few things?"

"I had a row with the chip and pin machine." I lie through my teeth, pleading for the blush not to return.

"Are you sure? You look a little...flustered." 

"I think it's your hangover talking. I'm perfectly fine." I scoff, suddenly gathering the groceries quickly and putting them in their correct place.

"Reyna?"

"What?" I say in a tone much too curt. Alex's eyes widen, and I soften my voice. "Sorry. What is it?"

"I'm hungry."

"Well seeing as you're clearly capable of moving around the house, I think you can make yourself some sandwiches. Cheese and bread are in the fridge, and you can heat up some soup if you want. I bought some just in case."

He whines. "But I don't want to get up."

"Alexander, you are probably the laziest twenty nine year old I have ever met. Get off your ass. And you wonder why you're not getting any girls." I smile.

"Hey! At least I've  _had_  some decent relationships before, unlike you!"

"I'm in a happy relationship with my work!" I yell back, heading into the bedroom where I promptly strip and throw on the uniformed scrubs, black with pink trim. Slipping into my own white coat, embroidered proudly in maroon lettering, I rush back past him and grab the umbrella from the coat closet, practically running back downstairs.

"I'll be home around seven! Call me if you need anything!" I holler to the second floor. 

"Will do!"

And with that, I fling open the door to the pounding rain, umbrella over my head and thoughts of the strange Mr. Hiddleston all but forgotten. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Last patient of the day!" Camryn, my dear assistant and best friend chirps as she tucks the files of the woman we just saw, young and glowing with positive pregnancy test in hand, into her chart. "You excited?"

"I think I've had enough excitement for one day." I laugh. "After all, I did get called in for two extra emergency C-sections."

"Oooh, how did those go?"

"Not too bad. Both of them ended up with healthy, happy babies. Though the one with twins worried me for the slightest second; the cord was tied around one of their necks and I couldn't get the other one out without squeezing the baby's neck even tighter. Her heart stopped for a moment, but both of them are doing well right now and mama's happy." 

"You know, I still don't get why you don't want to have kids, being an obstetrician and all. You literally get to experience the miracle of birth on a daily basis." she points out.  

"It gets boring after a while, in my opinion."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Hey, just because you're baby-crazy doesn't mean I have to be." Camryn already had two children, a cherub little boy and girl, and she was trying for a third with her lovely husband, Lorien.

"Oh hush up." She bats me with her sleeve. "Can we not talk about my personal life in public?"

"As long as you don't bring up mine."

Just then, a nurse pops in, peeking her head around the door. "Dr. Carlton, your patient's here."

"Alright. Tell them I'll be in a few minutes. You got her chart, Ryn?" I say, turning to her.

"Yep, it's right here." She pats a manilla folder with colored tabs of all sorts sticking out.

"Alright. Give me patient history." 

"Twenty-seven year old female, last name Hiddleston, 16 weeks pregnant, came in requesting ultrasound to see fetus development and find out gender." Camryn recites. I stop abruptly.

"Wait, last name again?"

"Hiddleston." she repeats. 

A sheen of sweat breaks on my face. Surely, it can't be...?

"Hiddleston's a common surname, isn't it, Ryn? In England?"

"It's pretty common." she says, shrugging. "Why?"

"Nothing. I was just curious." I reply, straining to keep my voice at a normal. It definitely wasn't him. It couldn't be; there were so many better hospitals in London than St. Mary's.

 _But remember, the royal family gives birth here,_ a voice reminds in my head.

"Shut up!" I yell, not realizing the whole hallway had stopped to look at me. Camryn glances at me, worry in her eyes, and touches my arm.

"You alright, Reyna?" 

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." I gulp, straightening my coat and smoothing my hair down. We come in front of the closed door, and I knock once, before stepping in.  

 

 

The first thing I notice even before I open the door are the raised voices. A rough, male one, and a female one, too sickly sweet for its own good. They're talking in low, harsh whispers, so I can't make out what they're saying, but the tears in the woman's voice can be heard even from here. Ryn clears her throat, and the couple jump away from each other, the man taking a seat in a chair adjoining to the exam table and the woman on it regaining her composure.

I see her first. Pin-straight, caramel hair, framing a face with startling green eyes heavily lined in makeup. Curvy, but not overweight, and wearing what looks like a man's silk shirt with leather leggings. How she managed to put those on with a stomach as big has hers, only she knows. She makes a weak attempt at a cough, trying to hide the lump in her throat, but it doesn't work. A glittering ring is on her right hand, the rock as big as my fingernail, and the way she places her hand on her legs, it's almost as if she's showing it off. The man audibly huffs, and I turn to look at him.

I wish I never did. 

He's wearing the same sweater and jeans as I saw him in this morning. A scowl is clearly etched on his face as he looks at the ceiling, tapping his foot impatiently, and eyes a steel blue. 

Suddenly, I can't breathe. The room is spinning, and I have to sit down to keep myself from fainting. My face must've been pale, because I could surely feel the blood draining from it.

"Doctor, this is Amelia Hiddleston. Mrs. Hiddleston, this is Dr. Carlton. She'll be taking care of you. " Camryn introduces.

I weakly stand up, and my feet take flight on their own accord. I move forward, and somehow end up at the side of the table, thrusting my hand out. Amelia takes it, and squeezes it hard, turning her hand inward so the diamond digs into my palm. With an innocent voice, she says, "Oh, please. Do call me Aimee, Doctor." but the venom in her eyes shine at me. My blood's boiling; already bubbling before, now it's going to spill over if I don't get out. Soon. Staring anywhere but at him, I shake her husband's hand, which he holds on to for longer than comfortable for patient and physician.

I have to leave. Right now, before something happens.

So I dig my phone out of my pocket, mouthing "sorry, I have to take this" after glancing at the screen. I pretend to take a call, widening my eyes a bit for full effect. Then with a thank you, I tuck it back into my pocket, and look to Camryn.

"Hey, I have to go." I whisper in her ear. "NICU needs me, the twins are having heart problems." She chides me with her eyes sternly, but the pleading look in mine silences her. I turn to the couple.

"I am so, so sorry, but I've got an emergency I have to take care of. My lovely assistant here, Camryn, will be performing your ultrasound today. If I can, I definitely will be popping in near the end. My most sincerest apologies, and congratulations--I choke on the word--to the both of you." So many lies told today. How many more would come, in the future?

 

 

Minutes later, I am huddled on the floor of the nearest staff bathroom, waterfalls pouring out of both eyes. I don't know how much time's passed, and at this point, I simply don't care. The tears have dried out, leaving salty tracks down my cheeks, but my body is still crying, with chest heaving and ragged breath. A sharp rapping on the door is what makes me raise my head from my lap, where it's been all along. 

"Reyna, is that you? It's me, Camryn. Everyone's gone."

I'm too weak to get up. "Come in." I rasp. "I'm in here."

As soon as Ryn finds me crouched in the corner, she rushes over with a gasp.

"Rey, what happened to you?!?"

"It got personal."  

"Was it the guy in the room?" One look at me, and she understands everything. "Oh." she breathes. "If it makes you feel any better, he was super pissed with her the whole time. Like he didn't even see the ultrasound because he asked to stand outside."

"...Really?"

"Really really."

"Well then why did he marry her in the first place? Why did he knock her up?" The anger in my voice is returning.

"I think you'll have to ask him." At my confused look, she digs out from the pocket of her top a gleaming white card, with something scrawled on the back of it. "He gave it to me right before they left and asked I pass it on to you. I haven't looked at it, I promise."

"No, I'm showing it to you too. You're going to have to help me on this. Men are confusing." She giggles. 

"Not  _all_  men, according to you." She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows.

"When did I-" 

"The blush, dear friend. Your cheeks never get red."

"I'm going to push you into the wall." And with that, I snatch the card out of her fingers, and read it.

**_Jaguar UK - It's Good To Be Bad_ **

**_Mr. Thomas W. Hiddleston_ **

**_Chief Executive Officer_ **

**"** What the hell?" I gasp, and Camryn does too. "This man's a damn CEO of one of England's biggest car companies?"

"He must be. I think I read about him in the papers once." She chirps. "Yep, I remember him now. Something about him being one of the youngest people to do so, I think."

I turn the business card over, and scrawled in ink, "Please do join me for lunch tomorrow. You can come straight to my office; the address is on the front. I'll drive us from there."

"Dear lord." I bury my face in my hands. "What in the world is he going to do, execute me?" But Camryn's too busy squealing in delight.

"I knew it, I KNEW IT! My Reyna's too good for anyone else, no wonder you've been single forever! No man's been worthy enough! Congratulations, dear!" She envelops me in a crushing hug, and to my surprise, she's bawling.

"What in the world are you crying for? I'm the one facing death tomorrow, not you." 

"I'm just so happy for you." I dry her tears with the sleeve of my coat. "You are going to look so pretty tomorrow. I can't wait to do your makeup!"

"Wait, you're not seriously making me go, are you?" I groan. Ever the romantic. 

"Of course you're going." She pouts. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" 

"But I don't wear makeup." 

"Just a little bit tomorrow, please? For me?"

"Lipstick and eyes. That's it. Otherwise I'm going to wipe off the whole thing and go looking like that."

Camryn shudders. "Definitely not." She grabs my wrist and pulls me up, throwing the door aside and stopping at our lockers for a few beats before running into the parking lot.

"What are we doing?" I screech. "You're going to pull my arm off!"

"No I'm not!" she yells into the night sky, already twinkling with stars. "We're going shopping, of course! You've got a date tomorrow!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Beyoncé's "Haunted". All copyright and ownership go to her.

Tugging the hem of my dress down every conscious second, I teeter into the hallway, clutching onto the wall for dear support. Reaching up to brush a few stray curls back into their place, I collapse on the floor, taking off my shoes and massaging my feet.

"I honestly don't know how people do this." I grumble. "High heels are just death dressed up." 

"I don't know either." Alex yells from the couch, where he's playing some kind of game while having his makeshift meal of cereal and milk. I can hear him pressing the buttons on his controller furiously from here. 

"You're just rubbing the fact that you don't have to wear them in my face, aren't you?" I tease, crossing the living room, heels in hand. "And don't talk with your mouth full." I playfully hit his head with my clutch. To my surprise, he stops the game, and almost chokes on his cereal.

"God, Reyna! What in the world are you wearing?" He splutters.

"Is that a compliment or insult?" I reply, hands on my hips. Camryn came over in the early hours of the morning to dress me up, while Alex was still fast asleep. She worked her magic, and now i was like this. Put in a bodycon black dress, with cutouts running along the entire length and sheer black lace over them. Eyes heavily defined in liner, with a signature cat eye framing my chocolate irises. Mascara that seemed invisible hung on every lash of mine, but never clumping. Rose blush dusted on the apples of my cheeks, and a simple nude lipstick painted across my usually nonexistent lips. Handed a pair of stilettos (a birthday gift, Ryn insisted) and a purple scarf woven into my arms, the transformation was complete. I couldn't recognize myself, and I still can't; this is some otherworldly being, not plain, lousy, and boring Reyna. Apparently Alex agreed.

"You look...good," He finishes, searching for the right word. "Really good, actually."

"Alex I swear if you are having any dirty thoughts right now I will take the heel of this shoe and shove it up your-"

"Whoa, slow down! No shoving things in places they shouldn't." He goes back to his game, hands raised in surrender. "You do look really pretty, though."

I raise my eyebrows. "Since when did you notice how I look? Are you sure that cereal's not drugged?"

Alex turns around. "Reyna, I'm being serious. Take a compliment, for once."

Oh. "Well, thank you then. I guess." I manage a tiny smile.

"Any time. Remind me what this is for, again?" 

"My first date." I say, the image of the business card still seared into my mind. I begin to shake, and Alex notices. He pauses the game again, and comes to me, gesturing for us to sit down.

"Okay, Rey. Let me give you a little pep talk. You're terrified, and I don't blame you. After all, you've been single for all 26 years of your life." I bite my tongue at that, resisting the urge to snap at him, but knowing all the while that it was true. "You have to stay calm. He's not going to do anything you don't want him to. All I'm saying is be yourself and you'll be fine."

"What do you mean, 'anything I don't want him to?'"

"I think you know what I'm talking about."

"ALEXANDER!" I leap off the sofa and smack him. "We are NOT having sex, damn it!"

"I'm just warning you."

"Shut up! Shut UP! You are not ruining my first date with nasty shit like that! Ew!" I make a face.

"You know you want to, secretly. Deep down inside." He looks at me.

"I'm going to kick you somewhere you won't like it when I get home." I storm out of the flat barefoot, Alex's gleeful "Have fun!" and laughing still ringing in my ears.

 

 

Following the GPS on my phone, I end up at a sleek and modern building, the architecture designed to make it appear like an inverted Regent Street made of glass and steel. A large pedestal is adjoining the entrance, boasting the company's name and with a small silver jaguar on top. I guess I've come to the right place. Heels unsteadily clacking on pavement, I reach the glass doors, which open at my presence. The receptionist is a young redhead and directs me to take the elevator to the penthouse office, her intelligent green eyes watching me as I get in another pair of silver doors. 

The elevator is all too gleaming; everything shines, and I'm pretty sure the numbers on the buttons are made of real gold. With a ding, the doors open, and there's another desk, this time with a blonde girl behind it, looking polished in her grey suit. I approach her, swiveling my head around everywhere.

"Hello, um, I'm here to see-" --I pretend to check my phone--"Mr. Thomas Hiddleston?" She looks at me, in my dress that's much too exposing for me, and smirks. Ah. I wonder who he didn't tell.

"He is currently in a phone call with someone. Please feel free to sit down somewhere in the lounging area while you wait." She says, gesturing to a myriad of plush-looking loveseats and chairs. "Would you like anything to drink? Water, tea, coffee, juice?"

"Ice water will be fine, thank you." My throat was closing in on itself in dryness. The blonde returns with a tall glass complete with umbrella straw just as I'm sitting down, and I take it from her, sipping as I look around. There's a huge fish tank right next to me, and I take interest in a particular blue tang with her baby, following them with my eyes as they swim around. I spot a little clownfish hiding in anemone. and a little school of goldfish darting around. I'm so engrossed in them that I don't notice the assistant returning until she's right next to me.

"Mr. Hiddleston is done with his phone call now. He will be out in a minute." Her voice startles me, and some of the water sloshes out of the glass as a result, straight onto the lap of my dress. 

"Oh no! I am so, so sorry! Here, let me get some napkins for you." She apologizes, but I can see the triumph in her eyes. "Mr. Hiddleston will see you now."

"Please to tell him that I'll be in a minute." I gripe, blotting at the water with the tissues. 

"No need for that, darling." The familiar honeyed voice speaks, stepping out into the waiting area.

Great. This is just great. I've got a date with an extremely sexy CEO, and the first thing he sees is me wiping my crotch. So much for impressions.

"Come into my office, won't you Miss Carlton?" He chuckles, extending his hand out to me. I instead march past him into the room, tossing the damp tissues into a nearby trash receptacle. I hear him walk in behind me, shutting the door with a loud click. 

"I'm sorry about the dress." He says, looking me up and down. Was he...checking me out? I gulp.

"It's alright." I mutter and take a seat in a nearby chair, folding my hands in my lap. 

"Would you like to get out of it? I can help you with that, if you'd like." His voice drops dangerously low, and somehow becomes even huskier. "You look absolutely delicious."

"Ex-excuse me?" I stammer, panic rising in my chest. "Did you just ask if you could-" But he's doubled over in laughter, face on the table. 

"Ehehehehe! My goodness, darling, you should've seen the look on your face!" He gasps. "I was just wanting to gauge your reaction. Oh, thank you for that." A finger swipes at his eyes, now a sparkling aquamarine. They must change color with his mood. 

"For what?" I snap. "Being terrified five minutes into our 'date' because you wanted to undress me?"

"Ouch. I've hit a nerve, haven't I? Let's go get something to eat; perhaps that will make you feel better." All traces of humor are gone in his face, instead there is something else in his expression. Regret? Sadness? Whatever it is, I'm not falling for it.

 

 

I stand up and awkwardly wait for him to put his jacket on, buttoning the cufflinks as we walk out. He produces a pair of keys from the pocket of his slacks, and I can't help but make a pouty face at the blonde as we walk by. Her face turns beet red; I bet he's never taken  _her_  out to lunch before. We go down the elevator alone, but instead end up at what must be some secret garage for the employees instead of the ground floor. My shoes clacking more noisily than ever, I glance over at the man, who's striding towards a sleek black car that seems to be the epitome of the company as he hastily buttons his jacket. He presses a button on his keys, and the engine purrs to life. 

"Get in." Mr. Hiddleston opens the passenger side door to me, and I slide into the car, tracing the leather with my fingers as I did so. He gets in, unbuttoning his jacket, (why'd he button it in the first place?) and we speed off. 

"Where are we going, sir?" I have the bravery to pipe up. I can't see except straight in front and behind me; the windows of the car are tinted blacker than night. 

"I'm taking you to lunch, remember? And call me Thomas, please." Touching the dash, the car's music player pops up, and he looks at me. "Do you listen to music?"

"What kind of question is that?" I scoff. "Who doesn't listen to music?" He chortles, and turns the volume up, blasting the music so loudly I pray the car's soundproof. A few lyrics belt out from the speakers, and it doesn't take me long to recognize the song. 

_It's what you do_

_It's what you see_

_I know if I'm haunting you_

_You must be haunting me_

I stare at him incredulously. "Beyoncé? Seriously?" 

"Have you got something against it?"

"No, you're just not the kind of person I expected to listen to her."

"Like I said before, there are a lot of things you don't know about me." The car glides to a stop. "We're here."

I peer out, confused. "This is a hotel."

"Oh darling, but inside is the best and my personal favorite restaurant in all of London. The jewel of London cuisine, shall we say." Thomas holds out his arm, and I intertwine mine with his, allowing him to escort me. Immediately to our right there's a little door, gilded with gold and silver. He opens it, and sweeps his arm out. "After you."


	4. Chapter 4

This isn't a restaurant. It's the dining room of a palace. Little tables are arranged everywhere, sporting beautifully made serviettes and silverware of the finest kind. The chairs look ergonomically modern, and the tablecloths resemble that of a wedding gown's layered skirt. But the centerpiece of the whole room is a curtain made entirely of dripping diamonds straight ahead of us, circling around like some kind of ethereal jellyfish. Everyone there is chattering animatedly and sipping glasses of wine. I look down at myself, and feel like a complete outsider. I shouldn't be here.

"Welcome to the Alain Ducasse at the Dorcester." A heavy French accent greets us, suit complete with bowtie and gloves. "Names?"

_The_  Alain Ducasse? The world famous one with all those Michelin stars? I shake my head slightly, in both awe and bewilderment. This man was just full of all sorts of surprises.

"Hiddleston." There it was, again. The dangerous voice. I suddenly take interest in the ceiling. 

"Oh, Mr. Hiddleston! How lovely to see you again! Forgive me, for I did not recognize you at first. My sincerest apologies." The waiter has a slightly blanched look on his face.

"No problem, Pierre." Thomas smiles. "I'm just here for lunch with this lovely young lady." I can see the curiosity and the questioning in our waiter's eyes, but he keeps silent.

"Ah, yes. Your reservation booked for the Table Lumieré. Perfect. Follow me." He instructs, whisking out two menus from underneath the desk and striding across the room. We follow him, my arm still in my date's, and end up right in front of the diamond curtain. I go to sit at one the chairs right next to it, but instead find that Thomas is staring at me oddly. What did I do now?

"Dear, we're not sitting there." The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Pierre has disappeared into thin air, but a moment later he reemerges from behind the curtain, pulling it wide open so the both of us could fit through. Inside was a delicate little table, decorated just the same as the ones in the rest of the place, but with one striking detail: a single red rose, lying across one of the plates. 

This is where we were sitting.

Thomas leads me to the side of the table with the rose, holding out my chair for me as I sit down and place my purse next to my feet. He takes his own seat across from me, straightening his tie as he does so. Pierre places our menus next to us, and holds out a large bottle of pinot blanc.

"Would you like some wine?" They were so formal here. I wonder if the royal family visited this place, too.

"Please." He fills our glasses, and excuses himself, assuring us he will be back a little while later to take our orders. The diamonds tinkle as he leaves, and now it is just the two of us. Suddenly feeling very nervous, I take a sip of my wine, and reach to put the flower next to me in the chair. Picking the menu back up, I notice a smear of red across it and try to wipe it away with my finger, which only makes it worse. I can hear Thomas's sharp intake of breath as he watches me.

"Give me your left hand." he commands.

"What? Why?" I ask, alarmed.

"Just do it, alright?" 

So I tentatively reach my hand out across the table, and as I do so, a drop of red blossoms across the tablecloth. He takes it, and turns my outstretched index finger upward. Lowering his lip, I swear he's going to kiss it, but instead I feel an odd sucking sensation, and it takes me a minute to realize that he's  _licking_  the blood off my finger. Biting my lip, I pray that I am silent, but to no avail. A small moan escapes me, and judging from Thomas's look, he's heard it too. 

"Excited already, Miss Carlton?" he purrs, dropping my hand. I bring it back to my lap, resisting the urge to go over the spot with my own mouth. "It's only been five minutes into our so-called 'date'." I gasp, and flush deeper than the rose. He takes the salt shaker and places it over the drop of blood on the table, just as Pierre reenters our little secluded bubble. Straightening himself, Thomas clears his throat, and looks at me, as if reprimanding.

"Be careful, Miss Carlton. Roses have thorns." His eyes, liquid oceans, mock concern. I push my chair in closer to the table, terrfied Pierre will notice the now constant crossing and uncrossing of my legs. 

"Thank you, Mr. Hiddleston." I reply with a matched tone, smoothing my napkin over my lap. I look to Pierre. "Sir, I'd like to have the chestnut ravioli with pumpkin and baby spinach, please." 

"Good choice. One of my favorites." Our waiter compliments. "And for you, Mr. Hiddleston?"

"I'll have the wild boar, please." I make a face behind my menu. "And more wine for the girl." Glancing over at my flute, I find that it's completely empty. Pierre graciously takes our menus and says he will return with the wine soon, giving our order to the chefs.

 

 

Many glasses of alcohol later, dessert is finally served, and the pastry chef himself brings it in graciously, waiting for our approval. I cut into the thin layer of cake, sandwiched between sheets of dark chocolate and topped with tiny scoops of vanilla ice cream, Thomas doing the same. My eyes light up as soon as the spoon touches my mouth, and we give our thanks to the chef, who leaves us with a wide grin stretched across his face. I take a scoop of ice cream off the top of the dessert and let it melt in my mouth, savoring the bits of vanilla bean dancing on my taste buds.

"This dessert is lovely, isn't it?" I say, taking another sip of wine and giggling. "So, so lovely." Observing Thomas eat was funny to watch. He took tiny bites of everything first before putting the rest of the food into his mouth. He notices me looking, and cocks an eyebrow before putting his spoon down.

"Something funny?" 

"No," I try, stifling more giggles. "You just eat in a weird way."

That catches his attention. He straightens in his chair and tilts his chin.

"And how, exactly, are my eating habits weird?"

"Are you going to interrogate me now?" I slur on the last letter, waving my hand around. "I am not your prisoner, and you will not have a word out of me. So there." With that, he takes my wine glass away, and replaces it with my water. 

"Miss Carlton, you are slightly drunk at the moment. Please refrain from making it any worse. I don't want you to get a hangover." Thomas sighs. That brings me to my attention, and I try and focus on everything so I don't make much more of a fool of myself. God only knows what I was doing a few minutes beforehand. 

"Sorry." I mutter, extremely embarrassed. I was acting like a child, and in front of  _him_ , too. But he notices my sudden quietness, and lowers his voice.

"No, I should be the one apologizing. It wasn't right for me to have said that to you." I relax considerably, finding comfort in his words, and take a sip of water, trying to flush the pinot out. 

 

 

"So, tell me about yourself. You seem to know all about me, so I think I should know at least a bit about you." I ask him nonchalantly. The alcohol has fueled my courage. 

His eyes harden for a moment. "What would you like to know?" 

"Do you have any nicknames?"

Thomas laughs. "Such a daring first question. My family and friends call me Tom. You can call me that, if you'd like. Both that and Thomas are fine. Mr. Hiddleston, I always respond to." He winks at me. The flirt!

"Alright then, Tom." I say, trying out the name on my tongue. It melts easily, like the vanilla ice cream and chocolate I savored. "Being on the topic of names, please call me Reyna from now on. I don't like Miss Carlton. It's too...formal."

"I am a formal man though, am I not?" He chuckles. "I'll try to restrain myself from now on."

"How in the world did you become a company executive at such a young age?"

"Ah, the question all of London's been dying to know. I studied business at Cambridge University, and simply used the skills I learned there to work my way up the company ladder." 

"Mmm, I see. Have you got anything you haven't discovered about me yet?" I taunt playfully.

"Actually, yes. Do you live alone?"

"I think you know the answer to that." I say, folding my arms across my chest.

"How is Alexander, by the way? That hangover all gone now?" 

"Yeah. I don't know if it'll come back anytime soon, though. He bartends, but you already know that."

"That I do." A long silence follows. "Are you two...?"

I choke on my water. "Oh god, no! He usually sleeps in the bed, and I sleep on the futon. Alex is a friend, nothing more. The closest we get to any affection is a quick hug before work. I swear."

"Usually?"

"Well he sometimes falls asleep on the couch playing video games." That relieves all of the obvious tension in Tom's face. "But why do you care so much of him?"

"Reyna, I have to tell you this straight up, so forgive me for being blunt." 

My temper starts to awaken. "Go on."

"For someone so smart, you are utterlythick! Why do you think a man who's taking you out to lunch would ask about the guy you live with?"

I'm about to leave the table before my mind catches up with me before my limbs. Oh.  _Oh._

"But-" I splutter. "You-what?" I look straight at him, find only seriousness, and to my surprise, a furious pink splashed across his cheeks. 

"You're not bluffing? This isn't some kind of trick?" My head is spinning, both from the wine and his words.

Now he's the one with the temper. "Why in the world would you think this a trick?" He yells, only loud enough for the two of us to hear.

That last question is what pushes me over. From the start, this was doomed: I was an emotional mess, he was too perfect. Hot tears start sliding down my face, and I shove them away. Tom's face changes instantly, from anger to fear, and...guilt? He rushes over to me, and dabs at my face with his napkin.

"I'm sorry. Oh god, what I have done?" He runs his hands through his hair. messing them into unruly curls, and starts pacing around the table. In his outburst, he doesn't notice that I've stopped crying until he hears escaped laughter I'm trying so hard to conceal behind the napkin.

"Tom." I wheeze. "You look as if you've killed someone. Slow down, drama queen." He looks at me in utter confusement.

"You're not...mad at me?" 

I shake my head at him. "I guess I've just been under a ton of stress lately, and this date had my nerves on high alert the entire time. A few drops of water escaped my eyes."

"You are the most confusing person I have ever met."

"Not your average date, am I?" Looking down at the napkin, I start, and turn to Tom. "Shit! Is my makeup running?"

"Your friend did well picking out waterproof. Nothing's smeared."

"Oh good. I didn't want to walk back out into the world looking like I'd been crying demon souls or something." That brings out a laugh from Tom. 

"We should get going. My assistant will start to get suspicious, and I don't like to fire her. She's good at the paperwork." He chortles, holding his arm out again. I unsteadily rise, afraid I'm going to tip over, grabbing my clutch. I reach for the rose, but he grabs it before I can, tucking it behind his jacket.

"No more thorns for you." A shiver runs down my neck at what that caused.

"Yes, sir." I salute, and we leave the Dorchester, as different as can be from when we entered.

 

 

The rainstorm that was supposed to happen yesterday has finally caught up with us. Droplets fall in sheets, battering the awning we stood under and limiting our vision only to what stood a foot in front of us. Thunder growls close by, and I can't even see the shadow of Tom's car through the deafening spray. As with every storm in London, the temperature has dropped sharply, and my exposed sides begin to tingle with the cold.

"Would you like to go inside?" Tom yells. It's the only way to be heard over the deafening noise. I shake my head.

"This is my favorite kind of weather." I reply. "I love it out here!" My heels are kicked off, leaving me completely barefoot. Stretching my arms out, I twirl around, a flash of my inner child escaping. Beaming, I dance in the rain, feet splashing and hair now plastered to my face, water from the ends dripping into the shoulders of my dress. 

Tom protests. "Come back under here! You're going to get a cold!"

"No I'm not!" I reply in a singsong voice, and even manage to pull him out from the shelter of the awning. His grumblings of "My suit!" soon disappear as he loses himself in his own dancing, feet pounding a steady rhythm on the wet pavement. 

A few minutes later, to Tom's utter insistence. we're gasping back in front of the hotel, on dry ground. His jacket is draped around my shoulders, and we're both soaking to the skin, clothes clinging to our figures. My heels are back on, and I can't tear my eyes away from his torso, seeing as the white dress shirt he's worn has turned completely see through. 

"I didn't know the rain made you so happy." He exhales, running his fingers through his damp locks.

"I didn't know you could dance." I exclaim in reply, admiring his clear talent.

"Once again, I must remind you that there are a lot of things you don't know about me, Reyna." Tom has a soft look in his eyes, and moves to stand right in front of me. Taking an elegant finger and tracing the skin beneath my cheeks, he tilts my chin up, so close to his I can count the barely-there freckles running across his nose.  Desire sends his soft lips colliding, teasing, with mine. Nipping the top one with his teeth, I open my mouth with a soft groan, allowing him to slide over my tongue with his own. I reach up to cradle his face, running my thumbs along the hollow of his cheekbones, and his hands entangle in my drenched hair, bringing our faces closer. We explore each other's mouths, and a sudden burst of courage allows me to bite down softly on his tongue, drawing blood. Returning his favor from earlier, I suck on the pulsing artery and finally draw away, earning a whine of protest. Tom tastes like mint, and something else, sweet, that I can't put my finger on. I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and he rests his head on mine, stroking my ebony tresses. It isn't until then that we both realize the storm has come to a halt, and the only thing we can hear are the dripping of remaining raindrops calming each other's frantic heartbeats.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing I notice when my eyes open is the muted candle next to me, flickering a orange haze over my arm. I lazily draw a finger to the flame, and focus on the ever-so-dangerous game of trying to snuff out the fire with my bare skin. Getting bored of the simple task, I lower my hand back down to my side, caressing the crisp white sheets absentmindedly.

 _White_  sheets. The sheets in our flat were a deep chestnut.

I shoot up, knocking my head on something overhead as I did so. Cursing and rubbing the soon-to-be lump on my skull, I look around. I must've hit my head on the ginormous charcoal headboard behind me, smoother than a pane of glass. The room is airy and minimalistic, decorated in greyscale with the occasional gold or beige. There's a feeling against my skin, one I've only experienced once before in the dress shop with Camryn, and I look down at myself.

I'm in a cobalt silk dress shirt much too big for my size and my underthings, nothing more. The dress and heels I had on earlier are nowhere to be found. I cringe visibly.

Fucking hell. 

A soft knock, then the turning of the door handle. I can't seem to find my voice. He walks in anyways, rubbing a small white towel across his face. Black sweatpants hang dangerously low on his lips, and beads of what I can assume are shower water cling to him so tightly, dripping rivulets down into his etched v-lines. I take deep breaths and look back at the candle, which is spilling wax down the sides. If I can't see him, then he's not even there. 

"Good morning, Reyna." He perches on the edge of the bed, and with the mattress sinking, I feel like I"m going to tip over into his arms at any moment. "How're you feeling?"

Oh lord. 

"Alright." I can't breathe, but I don't know if it's from looking at him or it's actually my body telling me I'm going to go into cardiac arrest in the next five minutes. "Where am I? And why am I here?"

"You passed out in the car on the ride back. From wine or frozen rain, I don't know. This was closest," he states matter-of-factly.

"Did you carry me into here?" My voice becomes quiet.

"Yes."

"Did you tuck me in?"

"Yes." His expression is emotionless.

"Did you undress me, and then redress me in your own clothes?" I barely whisper. 

"Yes." I bury my face in the sleeves of the shirt, and I can feel his eyes on me through the fabric. 

"Did we...? " I muffle, paralyzed with horror. I don't need to finish the question. 

"You were asleep, Reyna. I'm not a necrophiliac." There's a hint of dryness to his voice.

"Oh. Sorry." The shirt hides my blush, but I'm giving off enough heat to bake the biscuits I take with my tea. Surely it can be felt through the covers. Thankfully, he changes the subject.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Please. If it's not too much of a hassle." A slight buzz, now that I'm conscious of it, fills my head, and I know immediately it's from both hangover and low blood sugar. I need food.

"Not at all. Let me get dressed first, though." 

"You should've done that before you came in." I muffle into my thighs, and judging by the smirk he gives me as he's walking out the room, he's heard it clear as day.

 

 

I'm curled up on the leather sofa that dominates most of his living room, not a single spot on the white cowhide, flipping through a novel on the side table. Not caring, I dragged the comforter from the room and wrapped it around myself, feeling very self-conscious about what I was wearing. I probably look like a marshmallow to him. But no matter. Thomas walks in from the gleaming kitchen, holding a cup and saucer and a plate piled high with breakfast delicacies. Placing the saucer in my hands and the plate on the side table, he settles down next to me, in an emerald shirt with buttons straining so hard they're going to pop off and simple black slacks. 

"I hope you don't mind Earl Grey," he apologizes sheepishly. "It's the only thing I have in the house at the moment."

I take a sip of it. "It's actually my favorite kind. Thank you." He even got the sugar and milk right. I wonder how he knew exactly how I took my tea, but at the same time, I'm not surprised. 

"It's my favorite kind, too." he admits, blushing, as I take a croissant and dip it in the warm beverage.

"What time is it?" Taking a bite, I pray no crumbs fall.

"10:30 in the morning."

I almost choke. "Tom, I have work! And Camryn! Oh my god, Alex! He probably thinks I'm-"

"Alexander will be fine. I phoned him after I woke up, and he knows you're here with me." God knows what would be waiting for me when I came home. Knowing Alex, he'll be relentlessly teasing me for the next few months. "I also called St. Mary's and told them you'd be coming for only half the day."

I'm stunned. "You didn't have to do that. I could have done it myself." 

"While you were sound asleep? I wasn't about to wake you."

I sigh in contentment, looking off into the fireplace. "I don't think I've gotten that much sleep in weeks. Thank you." But the guilt still nags at the back of my head, with the worry of how Ryn was going to handle all those patients. I push it off into a corner. Nothing was going to induce a breakdown. Especially not  _here_ , and definitely  _not_  now. Focusing on the tea, I take a few breaths.

"Are you sure you're alright, Reyna? I'm sure you've got a lot of questions for me."

I don't want to sound like an annoying toddler. "Only a few."

"Shoot, then."

"Where are my own clothes?" And then everything comes rushing out in word vomit. "Why am I here? Why did you even want to have lunch with me in the first place? Why me, out of all people? What about your wife? And the baby?" His mouth presses into a tight line at the last two. 

"I thought you said you had only a few?"

"Sorry." Suddenly ashamed, I duck my head into the coverlet. "I shouldn't have gone that far. It was just all on my mind ever since you asked Ryn to give that business card to me."

Thomas sighs, ruffling his hair. "I guess it was bound to be asked sooner or later. Let's start with the simplest one. Your dress is freshly laundered and waiting for you in the closet of the room you slept in, along with your shoes. A fresh bag of clothes are in there as well; I told Alexander to choose some and I went ahead and picked them up from the flat and brought them here." 

"Why are they here, though? For me to change into? I could've just worn my dress from yesterday..."

"And that brings me to my next answer." He smiles, showing off his brilliant white teeth. "I'd like you to stay here, with me." I open my mouth, but he puts a finger to my lips, and with a soft "shh" I am completely silenced. "It would only be from Friday, once you get off for the day, to Monday morning. That way you don't miss work, and Alexander doesn't get worried."

"Was he? Worried?"

"Of course he was. You'd never not returned home before."

Oh. I should start paying attention to Alex more often. "Okay. That's all then, I guess. For now."

"I haven't forgotten the last two questions, Reyna."

"Well judging by your expression when I asked them, I'm pretty damn sure you don't want to answer them." 

"I don't. But I should, before we get into all this." He gestures vaguely. 

"All this? What's 'this'?"

"You being mine, of course." Tom says it so nonchalantly.  _Mine._ What the hell have I gotten myself into, with this possessive and dangerously glorious man allowing him to take me out to something so normal as  _lunch_? 

It takes all my strength not to blurt out twenty more questions. "Go on."

"Amelia and I were never supposed to meet. I had an overseas business meeting with our American headquarters in New Jersey, and she was the main receptionist there. She managed to get my telephone number, probably while filing away the meeting's notes or something of that sort, and kept messaging me constantly. There's only so many times you can say no before you start sounding like a dick." He laughs at that last statement. "But then again, I'm still one to her, so nothing's changed."

"Why is that? She got what she wanted, didn't she?"

"Miss Carlton, I have very...exclusive tastes." Tom's eyes are glinting sharp sapphires.

"What do you mean, exclusive?"

"You wouldn't understand." He grins, but his eyes are unreadable. Laughing at some internal joke between him and his wife now, is he?

"Enlighten me, then." My temper's beginning to rage, fueled by curiosity.

Thomas looks deep in thought. "Perhaps tonight, after dinner."

"And what makes you think I want to go to dinner with you?"

"You've got nothing better to do." He says it so simply. Damn. Right again; I don't. 

"Won't Amelia worry?" I wasn't about to call her Aimee without feeling bile in my throat. 

"She knows I go on business trips every weekend. No matter." Checking his watch, Tom gets up off the couch. "Come, it's almost time for us to both head back to work. Get dressed."

"Do you want your shirt back?"

"Would you like to keep it?" He smirks again.

"No, I was wondering if I could give it to Alex, because I'm pretty sure you've got hundreds more lying around." I say hotly, rolling my eyes at him.

"Careful, Miss Carlton. That won't get you anywhere around here."

"Then what will, Mr. Hiddleston?" Placing the tea on the table, I wrap the duvet around me tighter, the sarcasm ringing throughout the room. 

 

 

I shut the door behind me, wiping a few strands of hair that had been plastered to my forehead with the day's work and Camryn's constant interrogation of yesterday. My phone buzzes in the pocket of my scrub top, and I dig it out with a careful hand.

"Be ready in two hours. I don't like to be late," it read. "Signed, Thomas Hiddleston, CEO, Jaguar UK." Groaning, I flop down on the bed, where Alex seems to be studying his notes. By day he was a student, studying geology at King's College, and bartender at night at some famous Soho bar I couldn't remember the name of, earning money to pay his tuition off, little by little.

"I still don't get why you picked freaking  _rocks_ , out of all things to study in the whole world."

"Same reason why you picked medicine, Rey."

"That the sight of blood highly excites me?" Tugging my hair tie off, I let my hair fall to its naturally wavy state and run my fingers through it. 

"No. Because I love it." He peers over at my phone. "Got another date with Mr. Expensive Hottie tonight?"

"You know I'm not going to these because he's a CEO."

"Then it's the hottie looks." I snap the hair tie at him, where it leaves a slight red mark against his cheek. "Ow! Jesus, Reyna!" 

Scrub top already half off, I head into the bathroom, turning the shower on until steam fogged up the glass. "Be productive and pick out a dress for me, will you? I don't feel like thinking." I yell at him.

"I am being productive! Look, I'm studying for once! Isn't that what you want?"

"No, because right now I want you to pick out something for me to wear tonight! The half-decent clothes are on the far right side of the closet, and shoes are along the back. Go, Alex!" I poke my head out from behind the door, steam seeping out from underneath and all around my head. 

One well-deserved, hour-long hot shower later, I emerge from the bedroom, skin tingling copper with all the exfoliation and slightly smelling of lavender. Alex notices me, and rushes up to give me a hug. 

"You look gorgeous again."

"Don't I always nowadays?" I wink at him, nudging him in the ribs. But the outfit he picked out truly was a lovely one; I'd need to ask him for fashion advice from now on. I was in another dress, a white wraparound one made of chiffon that sparkled every time the fabric shifted. "Thank you for making me look gorgeous."

A knock at the door sent Alex rushing downstairs, and I following at a slower pace. Thomas stood there with a single white rose in hand, and dressed in his oh-so-familiar uniform of a well-tailored suit and white shirt. 

"Hello again, Reyna." He smiles, holding out the rose for me. The cheeky bastard! He knew exactly what our problem was with roses. I take it, careful not to touch my fingers to another thorn, and sniff it before handing it to Alex. 

"Do you mind putting this in the vase after we leave?" 

"Of course." He turns to Thomas, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Take care of her, will you?" 

"Don't worry, Mister Summers," Tom's tone of voice has suddenly become clipped. It takes me a minute to register that he's  _jealous_  of Alex. To think, the high-class company executive being jealous of a university student, and all because of me! He holds his hand out, and I take it as he leads me towards the car, headlights glimmering. "She's in perfect hands."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for such a late update, loves! School is the devil in disguise. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. c:

I keep a firm grip on Tom's hand as he helps me out of the car into the crisp London night. The streetlights twinkle in the fine mist that's coming down on us, and with a swift beep, his Jaguar's engine shuts off silently. I make my way towards the door of the flat, but he stops me.

"Ah, ah, ah, Reyna." Tom chides, pulling me aside into the grass. "We're not going inside."

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of everything that loaded sentence could hold. "Where are we going, then?" 

"A surprise. You have to close your eyes for it."

"I'm going to break my ankle in these heels if I can't see where I'm going." I grumble.

"Easy solution." Tom's eyes are twinkling, and he kneels down, tugging at the ankle strap  _with his teeth._ I suck in as much cold air as I can into my lungs, praying it'll ward off the familiar heat waves that are beginning to form. Deftly, he's able to unbuckle both shoes, and slides them off, standing back up with them slung lazily in his hand and grinning. "See?"

I can only rapidly nod, afraid I'm going to say something terribly idiotic. His other hand is big enough to where it can cover both my eyes, and he does so as he pulls me closer to him, encasing me in darkness.

"Hold onto my shirt. I'm not going to have you tripping over a rock, now."

"That's right." I say.  ** _Keep it together_** , I scold myself. The lushness of lawn tickles my bare feet as we move, and I can hear the faint lapping of water nearby. My toes hit stone pavement and they instinctively curl, reveling in the feeling of them rubbing against the texture. The clack of Tom's shoes fall silent, and he stops. Were we going swimming? I didn't have a bathing suit on me, and I'm pretty sure Tom didn't have one in the house. I cringe at the thought of skinny-dipping.

But then he removes his hand from my eyes, and I gasp as they take in the monstrous thing in front of me. It was a helicopter, as sleek and black as his car, and it sat like some kind of silent protector over the house. I draw away from Tom and move towards it, touching the surface curiously.

 

"I assume this is a Jaguar as well." I quietly say. 

"It is."

I turn to face him. "So, where are we  _really_  going?"

Thomas smiles. "My house. The real one."

My eyebrows rise. "And what, is this one-" I gesture to the garden and shimmering lights of the small flat, "-fake?"

He chuckles. "It's not where I live, so I can't really call it that. Just another property of mine."

"Yeah, just another million pounds." I mutter hotly under my breath, too quiet for him to hear. Tom slides open the door, and I go in first. It's a two-seater, pilot and passenger. A dangerous idea pops into my head, and I clamber into the pilot's seat, probably where I shouldn't be. A hiss escapes his mouth as he sees where I am.

"Get out. Now." he commands in that dangerously sexy voice of his, and I'm almost tempted to comply.

"I can fly one of these, you know." I force in my bravest tone. "You can check in my purse, the license is there. If I break it, I owe you a new one. Okay?"

He rummages around in the bag after I hand it to him, and produces a small card. I wasn't bluffing; Lorien was a pilot in the RAF, and I remember a while back he'd taught Camryn and I how to fly one of their Agustas with special permission. His commander thought nothing of it, and by the end of the day, we were both officially pilots. Tom's nostrils flare as he reads the card, then puts it back and hands the purse to me, stalking over to the other side of the copter. He climbs in and slams the door, looking at me already all harnessed-in and with headphones on with pursed lips.

"If you so much as get a damn  _scratch_  on this, you are going to pay in more ways than one." Tom's detached voice growls into my ears, and I squirm. It's so different when it's...closer. "How long have you been qualified, exactly?"

"Five years. Don't underestimate me." I reply smoothly as I flip switches and buttons on the instrument panel, checking every gauge as I went. "What's it's name?"

"Caius Martius."

I stop. "As in Caius Martius Coriolanus?"

"Why, is that a problem?" he replies, clipped.

"Not at all." I smile. "He's actually one of my favorites."

"How do you even know where we're going?" 

I point to a blinking circle near the middle of the dash. "You forgot to turn off your GPS, darling." I smirk. "Ready?"

"Are  _you_ ready?" Tom challenges. 

"Damn right I am." I retort, speaking into my earpiece now. "LHR this is Caius Martius, cleared for takeoff. Please confirm. Over."

"LHR to Caius Martius, you are clear. Please proceed. Over and out."

"This is Caius Martius, understood LHR. Over and out." Turning to Tom, I find his expression unreadable. Feeling thoroughly pleased with myself, the helicopter whirrs to life, and the London skyline disappears into dots before my own eyes. 

 

 

"I thought you said you could fly helicopters?" Tom asks. We've been sitting here in practically silence the entire time, and it was only a few more minutes until we'd reach his house. I'd put the engine in autopilot, hoping to just sit and talk with him, but we didn't get very far and I eventually gave up for awkwardly staring out the window instead. 

"I don't want to scare you." I say, still with nose pressed to the glass pane of the window on my right.

"Scare me?" he chortles. "There are very little things that can scare me, Reyna." 

"So you're saying you want me to fly your helicopter?"

"Well, I'd rather not think you a liar." 

I mash the autopilot button down again, causing it to turn off. "You're going to regret this, Thomas."

"Am I?" 

"You are." 

And with that, I take hold of the collective with one hand and cyclic in the other, my thumb jamming down on the throttle. We shoot up into the sky, and my back thuds softly against the seat with the sheer change in momentum. It's then that I let my love of heights take over; the helicopter goes through a thin layer of low clouds, and only then do I stop its ascent, but keep the speed. We're effortlessly gliding through the night sky, stars sparkling overhead so close to us I bet if I put my arm out through the copter's window, I'd be able to grab one. Giddy with excitement, the windows go down on my command and the air meets us in a cold rush, instantly vaporizing the sweat that'd gathered on my body.

"Still not regretting this?" I grin over at Tom. "Or am I too busy sca-"

He cuts me off, whipping his gaze to meet mine with terrifying intimidation. It's only then that I notice his knuckles, gripping the sides of his seat so tightly the skin stretches a taut white over them. 

"Get. Us. Down. Now." he growls. But I'm having way too much fun with this, and in my high, fail to comply with his request. Instead, blood pumping, I steer the copter higher.

"What, you're not  _afraid,_ are you? Have I scared the great Mr. Hiddleston?" I taunt. "Done what no one else has done before? Discovered his fear, of all things... _heights_?"

When he speaks, his tone is low, scraping down my spine with every syllable. "Miss Carlton," he growls, "you've already been very bad tonight. Now get this  _fucking_  copter down before you suffer worse consequences."

"But I-"

"I  _said,_ get this damn helicopter down."

I blanch at the calmness of his voice, and all the excitement I was feeling only moments ago is replaced with raw fear. Meekly, I lower the helicopter down to where we were before and close all the windows, once again putting it into autopilot. Suddenly, the thought of flying this thing seemed like a death sentence. What "consequences" was I going to suffer? Poisoning in the wine? Drowning in the hot tub? Being locked in an empty room in his house and being forced to starve until I died? Whipped to death in some kind of secret torture room? God, who knows with this man?

 

 

I don't move from my stock-still position in the pilot's seat, even after we've made an effortless landing on the helipad atop his high-rise of a home. The second the blades whir to a stop, Thomas springs out of his seat and practically rips open the door, stalking over to me and throwing mine open in a matter of seconds. My nerves have risen to their full extent, and the world is spinning. _  
_

 _ **Maybe I'll just die here,**_ I foolishly think.  _ **Stuck in this seat forever until I become a skeleton.**_

One of Tom's arms snakes to my torso, and for a minute I think he's going to throw me into the control panel, until he unbuckles my halter and half drags me out of the helicopter. I stumble out onto the cold gravel of the helipad, and not a second later am I slammed hard against the side of the copter on my back. He presses his body against mine, pinning me in place, and I can't do so much as squirm. His hot breath courses over my neck, nostrils flaring, and merely looks at me with daggers in his eyes before yanking my wrist towards the small garage, which houses another car, this time the same color as my dress.  _  
_

"Put your hands on the hood." Tom commands, and I can do nothing else but obey, placing my trembling hands on the polished hood of the Jaguar. The cool air hits my rear as I bend over, and I move to pull down the hemline of my dress.

"Not so fast." he growls, and with swift movements, suddenly my hands are tied in front of me with his navy tie, double-knotted so I can't get out of them. He takes a few steps back, and I crane my neck to see what he's doing, only to find that he's straight behind me, blocking my view of him. But from the corner of my eye, I see him reaching to the back of his slacks, as if he's pulling something out. My heart is racing with adrenaline, probably the last few beats it was ever going to take. A handgun could easily be hidden in the waistband of pants, especially dress ones. 

_**This is it. I'm going to die here, brains blown out in the middle of nowhere but a CEO's mansion. You fucked up so bad, falling for this man. Now he's going to kill you. Great fucking job, Reyna.** _

The heels of his shoes steadily come closer and closer with each tap on the pavement, and finally stop. I imagine the gun's in his hand, and with his long arms, he could easily be pointing it at my head. Not daring to look and prove my hypothesis, I squeeze my eyes shut and hang my head down, praying for it to be quick.

**_I'm so sorry, Alex. I never told you enough just how much I loved you. I hope you find happiness in a lovely girl sometime, and have the perfect family. And Camryn, never forget that you were always my livesaver. This time, I'm afraid, it's too late. I'm sorry._ **

What comes is the absolute last thing on my mind.

The scuffling feeling of leather hits down hard on my ass. 

I automatically yell in fright, my voice echoing off the walls of the garage. Tom comes closer and yanks my hair back, pulling my neck up so I directly see him looking straight down at me. 

"For the fifteen minutes you were pulling your little  _stunts,"_  he growls, "You get fifteen of those. And I want you to count every single damn one of them, or I  _will_  start over. Is that understood?"

I can only manage a whimper in response, my heart struggling to keep up with the blood rushing through my veins. Tom's heels move back a little, and the leather hits harder this time. I shriek, barely coherent with the sensation searing across my rear.

"Guess I'll have to teach you the meaning of starting over, won't I?"

The smack of the leather glove reverberates around the garage, and I scream. "One!"

They keep coming, another and another, one after the other. "Two! Three! Four!"

By the fifth one, I'm sobbing. "Please, Thomas, I'm so sorry, I won' t do it again, just please..."

"Shut up. A bad girl needs punishing. This is yours." His voice is rough, and...something else? I don't know; I can't tell anything anymore except that my backside must be bruised black and blue by now. 

The last one seems to come after an eternity. "Fifteen!" I weakly cry out, my legs shaking against the front grille of the car. There are tears running down my face, and an odd wetness between my thighs. I didn't even think adults were capable of pissing themselves during something like this, but then again, I don't think most adults experienced this.

 _ **But, wouldn't it be running down your legs if you did?**_ a small voice interjects in the back of my head.

"Shut up!" I hiss, and with just my luck, Tom is within earshot.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" he breathes, and with a quick gloved hand, whips me around and grabs the front of my dress. I automatically moan in relief; with the movement, the back of my dress ruffles up. The crisp air soothes the stinging instantly. Tom takes all notice, and a devilish grin creeps up his face. In the moonlight, he looks absolutely sinister.

"N..no..." I cry. "Please..."

"Then what was that I just heard right now?"

"That wasn't for you, it was..."

"For whom? Do you see anyone else here, hm?"

"Tom please, I didn't tell you to be quiet." I beg, my fingernails scratching at the hood of the Jaguar. As a response, he merely grabs my still-tied hands and drags me away from the car. My bare feet are getting nicked with every step I take, and as I reach the glass doors of Tom's mansion, the last thing I remember thinking is,  _ **Well, at least this is a beautiful place to die,**_ before succumbing to the fire raging through my already-intoxicated senses. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible for updating so late, I've been so busy. T.T I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.

I come to with legs terribly cramping and shoulders aching like they've been pulled out of their sockets. It takes me a second to realize that I'm in an awkward kneeling position, head bowed like it's ready for the axe and hands still tied behind my back. As I shift to stretch myself out, the whisper of chiffon greets me. Thank goodness my clothes were still on. Struggling to open my eyes, I finally do so and am met with darkness, my eyelashes being pressed backwards with some sort of satin blindfold.  I start to weakly get up, and in my attempt to do so, don't notice the lock of the door handle clicking open. I'm almost standing when an elegant hand stops me.

"Please, don't." Thomas purrs, forcing my shoulders down so I sink to my knees again. The dipping of the plush carpet with every step he takes gets closer and closer, halting right behind me. Unsure of what to do next, I tense myself up into a statue, fighting the growing instinct to tremble and bolt into the corner of the room, wherever it was. A soft tugging reaches the back of my hair, and I hold my breath to find the satin slipping from my face, exposing my eyes to my location. 

As my pupils dilate and constrict to adjust to the ambient lighting, I look around as far as my neck can twist, only to find a long, wide hallway, and a coat rack to the right of the polished double doors with Tom's suit jacket from earlier hanging from one of the hooks. The carpet we're on is a deep slate, and the walls and ceiling oxford blue with white trim. Holding my breath until now, I exhale in a loud rush, and instantly the smell of fresh leather hits me with comfort. Small stage lights illuminate the path down the hallway, and I can see shadows of furniture casting soft glows onto the carpet. 

Thomas takes me gently by the arms, still not untying my hands, and starts to lead me through the hallway. What I took to be furniture is actually a magnificently large mahogany chest of drawers pushed up against one end, and on top of it numerous tie racks, all neatly arranged like they would be in a store. Tom still has my blindfold in his hand, and as he moves to tuck it away in one of the many drawers, I peer inside to find many more of different colors and fabrics, some lace, some silk. As I look back up at the impressive tie collection, one glares out at me, and I reach out to try and grab it only to remember my arms are immobile, and put them back down in frustration.

"That's a very special one." he chuckles, noting my obvious annoyance at my state. "Custom-made red silk, imported straight from Shanghai. Come, I have more to show you."

I follow him slowly, stopping at the glass cases adorning the other side of the hallway. Inside are a few shelves, housing things like more leather gloves and belts, coiled up like snakes one on top of another. Even more ties hang from the top, along with a few bowties. Good God, was this his closet? How much clothing did the man need to own?

But then I stop at the end of the hallway as the carpet tapers out to meet polished wood, and my breath hitches in my throat enough to make me practically choke on it. 

 

It's an enormous bedroom of sorts, with the same colored walls as the hallway, but the harsh lighting makes the entire place emit an eerie glow as if I've just stepped into a fancier version of a medieval castle. Carefully, I approach the first thing I see, which is a large mahogany x-shaped cross nailed into the farthest corner of the left wall. Upon further inspection, tiny black cuffs are attached to each point of the cross. A sheen of sweat breaking across my palms, I shakily look above me to the ceiling, where a suspended iron grid greets me, little hooks dangling from it every so often. Next to the cross is a standing coat rack, ornate ebony with all sorts of chains and ropes hanging from each end. I move to the middle of the vast room, where an ottoman-like thing I'm pretty sure is called a divan sits, without arms or pillows and mere leather on top of padding. But the divan is suspended much higher than usual so that the top reaches just under my waist, and as I peer over the sides find that the piece of furniture is supported by a steel cage with bars, padlock included. 

However, the main attraction in the room is the front-and-center placed bed, a massive four-poster with curtains pulled around each side and exquisitely carved spindles. It too has a midnight colored frame, gleaming headboard supporting a mountain of satin pillows and cobalt bedding. I find swinging from the uncovered canopy an assortment of handcuffs and restraints. Two small nightstands on either side have exactly three votives arranged on each of them, the fire strangely soothing. At the foot of the bed, an ornate french chaise sits, facing the bed itself.

At some point during all this, my subconscious seems to have fled away. I numbly keep exploring, only being able to focus on what's right in front of me.

The wall opposite the cross and on the other side of the bed has another carved rack stretching to either end, a fleur-de-lis gracing the exact middle. For some reason I have to stifle a laugh at seeing the decoration; as of right now, it's the most normal thing in the room besides the pillows. But the same cannot be said for what's hanging from each hook, for they are a myriad of whipping things, riding crops and paddles. Obviously not the kind you play table tennis with. 

Something on the rack demands my attention, and I curiously observe it as I come closer. Hanging from the angle it is, it looks like a leather harness, withsmall gleaming silver buckles winking at me as they hold the whole thing together. It's extremely intricate, and I have absolutely no idea what would go where or whether the entire thing would even be used at all.

Only when I back away do I notice I'm now fully-fledged shaking, tremors running down every inch of my body in little quakes. Even the fabric of the tie still holding my hands together is chafing the surrounding skin. I turn to him, standing in the doorway with an impassive expression but stone blue eyes studying me carefully.

"This is my playroom." Thomas says quietly, gesturing to the vast space. "Like I said, I have very singular tastes, Miss Carlton."

Oh, I knew exactly what kind of tastes this man had, revisted a while back in a mandatory human sexuality class from med school. This was nothing other than a game of submission, of controlled pain and melting wax and spankings and "yes, sir" and restraints and gags in the form of ties.

Thomas Hiddleston was a dominant. 

All the signs were there: bold, competitive. The trailblazer, if you will. Intelligent, with a confident stride in his step and terrifyingly good manners. Always dressed smart, always the perfect talker.

I guess I was right about getting whipped to death in a secret torture room as punishment.

 

Tom turns to me. "Say something." he whispers, but the demand rings loud in his voice.

"Why?" I splutter out, voice cracking raw. It's getting harder to breathe by the second.

His eyes bore into mine, steel ice. "Because I like commanding people. I like telling them what to do, having them obey my orders. I like to be the one in control."

I'm going to faint again. "Then what's all this?"

"My likes expand into the bedroom, Reyna."

"Ca-can we sit down somewhere?" The color in my face drained long before, and the room is tilting. "Please?"

He takes my arm again, still gently. I have no strength to shake it off, mentally nor physically. "Just this once, and only because you asked nicely."

We walk through the hallway again, me glancing at the leather gloves again. Finally, I understood my punishment in the garage just hours before. 

"Stay there." Tom instructs. We've reached the entrance to the hallway again, and I slump down against a wall as he lets go of me, taking in lungfuls of fresh air. He moves to open the door to the rest of his house. "I realize this is a lot to take in, and I apologize if it's been too much all at once." Before I can manage to create a coherent response, he comes back, two glasses in hand with ice cubes clinking.

Perfect. There's nothing like alcohol to mess with an already intoxicated mind.

"Here." He crouches down to give me one, watching my response and I'm about to reach out and take it before I remember my hands are still bound. Too weak to protest, I allow him to lift the glass to my lips and find that it's not vodka, but fresh, cool, water. Extremely grateful, it takes all my willpower not to drain the entire thing in one gulp, so I sip at it, relishing in the feeling of it relieving my parched throat and bringing my lungs back to life.

"Thank you." I manage to find my voice. Tom gives a nod, drinking from his own glass. "I assume this is why you and your wife don't seem to get along very well."

"It is. She's...vanilla in the worst way, shall we put it."

"Is there something wrong with vanilla?"

"Not at all. I was just never into it, and being with her has only added disgust."

"How many?" I have to ask.

"Enough to overpower my once-existent guilt of doing it." he says shortly.

"Then why am I here?" my voice trembles.

"Because-" Thomas sighs, runs a hand through his honey hair. "Because I want you."

 

My mind is still spinning. "I'm right here." 

"Reyna, I think you and I both know what I'm saying."

I do. It's screaming across my mind with flashing neon lights. "But...why? Why me?"

"Damn it, Reyna! You're twenty-six, one of the smartest girls I've ever met, and absolutely gorgeous! Why not?" Frustration is etched across Tom's face, but I'm hiding my face between my thighs. "How has some guy not had the sense to notice that?"

"They have. I just turned it down." I mumble into my dress, tears now falling freely and makeup probably staining the white fabric. "I'm too busy with work."

"So then why didn't you do the same for me?" Thomas stops his pacing and whirls around.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. Your position. Maybe you were going to file a formal complaint or something against me to the hospital if i didn't come."

"Are you saying you accepted only because you were scared of me?" His voice is softer now. I give no response. I don't know. I don't know what I've gotten myself into. I don't know why this man who likes to hurt people for pleasure likes me. I don't know why I bumped into him that very first day at the grocer's. And I especially don't know why I like him back.

Suddenly my hands are gingerly tugged away from my face, and the pad of a thumb brushes itself under the hollows of both of my eyes, surely coming back smeared with black eyeliner and mascara.

"Darling? Darling, open your eyes. Look at me." Tom's voice coaxes. Surely this can't be the same man with the room of leather and metal. I obey only to find his face inches away from mine, his own eyes a swirling mix of desire and concern and hand still resting on my cheek. "Are you scared of me now? Even more than before?"

Fear was good. Fear was where I was in my element, the adrenaline sharpening my senses as well as my focus. Fear was what I felt when I saw this man and the room he has. Fear was what coursed through me in his garage. Fear meant I was human. 

And humans, by nature, are carnal.

"No." I breathe, letting my panic run through my veins. I sat up a little taller, straighter. "No, Thomas. I am not scared of you." 

His eyes widen at my response, and then a small but hungry smirk decorates his face. "Good."

Then he cups my face with both hands, tilts my chin up, and kisses me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is like 99% smut, so if you're not into that stuff, don't read it. On the other hand, this is my first time writing smut ever, so if y'all could tell me how I did in the comments, it'd be loved. c:

As far as kisses go, this one was pretty damn hot.

Thomas ensnares my lips in his, demanding and with force as one of his hands entangles itself in my hair, pulling it just the slightest bit so to expose my neck even more than it already was. The gentle brushing of his stubble was enough to leave faint little lines across my skin, and I'm practically moaning into his mouth. With a rough tug, his teeth let go of my lip and move on to my neck, biting down enough to leave lovebites I'd have to learn to hide almost instantly before walking out the door. 

"God, Reyna..." he mumbles, breaking away and leaving both of us heavily panting. I look at him and his pupils have blown out of proportion, my own probably mirroring them. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this to you."

I want to echo it back,  _ **I have too Thomas, ever since that day in Sainsbury's**_ , but I'm breathing too hard and slipping out of coherence.

"Will you be able to go back in the room?" Tom asks, with legitimate concern. I nod firmly. He smiles again before making my head spin with another ravenous kiss. "And still on the pill, right?" I nod again. "Good. Go in there and lay on the chaise. Don't take anything off. I'll be there in a moment."

I've just barely draped my legs over the back of the baroque frame when I hear footsteps, and I hold my breath, heart racing.

"Darling, where are you?" Thomas calls sweetly. I dare not answer. 

He finds me soon enough, lying on my back and head dangling off the edge of the chaise. A devilish grin plays across his lips, and he reaches down to stroke my cheek with his thumb again. 

"Look at you, such a good girl. So pretty poised like that. And all for me." he hums. "Get up." 

I scramble into a ladylike sitting position, knees crossed over the other. Tom starts circling me possessively, and I stare straight ahead at the pillows on the bed. He stops right in front of me, and it's only then I notice his arousal straining against his slacks. Flushing, I avert my eyes down. To think, someone like me could do something like that to someone like him. He pulls me up by the arms again, and reaches around them to finally undo the bond that was holding my hands together, letting the tie fall onto the plush padding. Bringing them back to my front, Tom massages my wrists for a minute to let the blood rush back into them before letting them hang back at my sides.

"Tonight, we're going to use that pretty little mouth of yours, darling. If you behave like a good girl and do as I ask, I'll reward you with something special. Got it?"

A small moan escapes me. Holy  _fuck_ , he can talk. "Yes."

"Yes,  _sir_."

"Yes, sir." I repeat.

That is all the consent we both need. Thomas walks up to me, so close our chests are touching, and huskily asks, "But before we begin...pick a safeword."

I think for a minute before it comes to me. Two can play at this game. Stretching up on my tiptoes, I whisper into his ear. "Roses. Sir."

He hisses as the double entendre reaches him. "You naughty little minx."

And with that, he practically throws me back onto the chaise, growling. I land with a soft thud as he presses his knee in between my legs, spreading them apart under my dress. One hand easily pins one of my wrists above my head as the other entwines itself in my own, bringing it to the front of his slacks and groaning when I palm the hardness that's already formed there. Quickly undoing the button above, I move to hitch my fingers in the waistband of his boxers, lingering there for a moment before pulling those down as well. Now fully revealed without actually shedding an inch of clothing, my breath hitches in my throat as I drink in the sight of how big he actually is, desire pooling hot in my stomach.

"Kneel onto the floor, darling." Tom commands, stepping back and letting me do so as I sit back on my heels. "I want to see you take me in your mouth."

Moving a step closer, he's barely out of reach as I open my mouth wide. The head brushes past my lips, warm salt mixed with skin as I run my tongue completely along the underside of his cock. Wrapping my lips around him, I suck on the shaft, gradually building more and more pressure until I can hear Tom moaning and swearing furiously under his breath as he threads his fingers through my hair again, this time with both hands. He begins to move deeper and deeper within my mouth in shallow thrusts, and I breathe through my nose as I take in his girth, drawing back only when he hits my gag reflex. Grabbing Tom's thigh with one hand so hard I'm practically digging my nails in and gently toying with his balls in the other elicits a deep moan reverberating from somewhere within his chest, the short bursts of cursing getting louder and louder.

Making my way back up to the head, I constantly push over the shaft with my mouth. Tom's fingers twitch in my hair as I reach the tip and start flicking my tongue over it, again and again and again. Both of us can feel him start to tense and he pulls out of my mouth with a soft snarl. Making sure to make a show out of the complete thing, I lower my hands back down to rest on top of my own thighs and lick my lips almost comically. He smells divine, like clean rain and soap with the lightest hint of musk. I risk gazing up at Thomas, who's falling apart at the seams. With eyes hooded in pleasure, ruffled hair, damp lips from where he's been biting them still emitting soft whines, and chest rapidly rising and falling, he looks very much like Adonis himself.

Grinning down at the floor, I pipe up. "Yes, sir?" 

He opens his eyes, brilliant blue glazed over with pleasure. "Fuck. You've been so good tonight, darling." he breathes heavily. Extending a hand to me, I take it, and he pulls me to my feet again, brushing his lips against mine sweetly as he zips back up. Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, he holds them in one hand and strokes my hair gently with the other.

"I want to take off your dress before you get on the bed, and then I'm going to handcuff you and give you that special reward we talked about earlier." Tom whispers softly. "Would you still like to do this?"

The unbridled passion from only a few minutes before has been replaced with a gentle kindness, every ounce of it genuine. And that is when I realize that I trust him with this, I trust him not to hurt me if I don't want it, I trust him to take good care of me. That makes all the difference. "Yes, sir. Please." 

His expression goes back to raw sin and lust. "Then get on the bed, head on the pillow side, flat on your back and arms above your head. But let me get out you of that dress first. Turn around."

"Yes, sir." I stand still and raise my hair so he can reach the zipper, which he undos with a swift tug. He slips off the shoulders first,  warm breath ghosting over my exposed skin and making shivers run down my spine, then lets the whole thing pool at the floor around my feet in a rush of air. Thank goodness I was wearing that new pair of matching lacy black underwear Camryn insisted on buying me. Goosebumps erupt on my skin at the swift change in temperature, and suddenly I'm feeling very self-conscious of my body. No man has ever seen this much of my skin before.

But then again, no man has asked me to do what I did tonight. 

"May I get onto the bed, sir?" I inquire. Tom's looking at me hungrily, and nods his assent as I clamber up onto the sheets, which are surprisingly silky. I lay myself out as instructed, and he comes over from the side of the bed, securing the handcuffs onto me carefully.

"That too tight for you?" he says with utmost seriousness.

"No, sir." I smile. "Thank you, sir."

"Lovely." Tom murmurs, long fingers moving to undo the buttons on his dress shirt one by one. He simply shrugs out of the garment, revealing a sculpted torso that was well-defined yet lithe, with lean muscles that still rippled when he moved. From where I am, I can't see him removing the rest of his outfit, but that changed soon enough when he came up onto the bed, no inch of his skin left covered. "Put your arms in front of you."

I follow his order and fight the urge to cross my legs as he crawls over me possessively, stopping just before they parted and sitting down onto the comforter cross-legged. 

"Come closer to me." he directs, and I scoot over as gracefully as I can until our legs are touching. "You still alright?"

In all honesty, I don't know. My pulse is thundering in my ears. This is it. I nod vigorously. "Yes. Sir."

"Oh, damn the 'sir' for once." Thomas growls. "I want to hear you scream my name as I fuck you."

He leans over me so our torsos are pressed flush against one another, and I allow myself to hook my arms over his head and around his neck as he marks me as his all over my shoulders and collarbones, my hands clenching fists into his hair. One of Tom's own hands snakes to the curve of my ass, kneading it and causing me to let out a low groan as he ground his hips against mine. The other moves to the small of my back, undoing my bra clasp and tearing it off me.

Sorry, Camryn.

Tom lowers his head until his mouth closes over one of my nipples, tugging at the already hardened peak with his teeth and making my back arch instantly in submission to his actions.

"Oh fuck... _fuck..._ " I curse as he moves to the other one, his hand now wandering down between my thighs to cup my already dripping mound. " _Thomas..."_

"Look at you, darling." he hisses into my ear, nipping at the lobe before moving back down my body. "You're already so wet for me."

All I can do is moan loudly in response as his fingers circle my folds through the lace before deciding to slide those off as well down trembling legs, making my hips buck into his palm instinctively. The pad of his thumb passes over that sensitive spot, and I'm seeing stars. So many things are happening at once that I fail to notice Tom's lips have trailed down to my stomach, peppering little kisses on the skin, that I don't realize he's reached  _there_  until they start sucking at my inner thighs. Whimpering, I'm practically raking my nails down his back in pleasure as his tongue slips into me with deep, teasing strokes. 

"Fuck!" I cry out,  head falling back against the pillows and heels digging into the bedspread in a vain attempt to grind myself into his face. 

"That's right, moan for me." Thomas withdraws, licking his lips wickedly with hands still gripping my hips. 'What exactly do you want, darling? Hm?"

At this point I'm begging, and he knows exactly what he's doing. "Please,  _Tom_ , I want you to fuck me... _please_..."

Instead of answering, I can feel the head of his cock poised against my entrance, and before I'm allowed time to prepare myself, he buries himself inside of me with one swift thrust and the sudden movement makes me gasp. The flash of pain was lost within my shout as Tom bites into my shoulder, one hand moving back to grip my ass and the other to wrap itself in my hair as I claw my nails into the small of his neck and everywhere else I can reach. His hips set a merciless pace as they pound into me over and over, hitting my clit at each thrust, and we both knew we couldn't last much longer at this rate. 

"Oh  _God_ , yes Tom,  _yes_!" I've turned into an animal, howling and clawing and biting at everything. 

"Do you want to come, darling?" he asks, and I shriek incoherently. "Then come for me!" 

A few more thrusts is all it takes to push me over the edge, the pleasure built up in my core exploding as I scream his name so loudly I'm sure all of  London has heard. I can hear his yell above me as he too succumbs to his orgasm, slamming into me one last time as he comes, hard. Tom stills for a moment, still panting heavily against my collarbone, warm bursts of air mingling with the sweat that's beaded everywhere on me, and neither of us move as the aftershocks of post-coital bliss sweep through our bodies.

Finallly realizing that my back was still in a keeling arch, I lower it down softly back onto the bed with a whimper. He presses his mouth to mine gingerly, burying his face in my neck as he pulls out. Reaching to undo the cuffs, he releases my hands from their bonds and kisses each of them before moving to kiss me again. Turning his body so that he was now laying under me, I tilt my head back to let it rest on Tom's chest, tracing little patterns on his glossy skin.

"That was so fucking perfect, darling." he rumbles, nosing my hair. "God, you're beautiful."

"Mmmm." I sigh satedly, only then noticing the throbbing ache between my thighs. "Thomas? Or is it still 'sir'?"

He chuckles. "I'm only a 'sir' when I want to be one. What is it, darling?"

"Can I clean up somewhere? Please? If that's okay with you?"


	9. **UPDATE**

Hey darlings! So summer's rolling around (and final exams, which is why I haven't been writing) and I've decided I'm going to make a few adjustments to this thing, to make it flow better and stuff like that. Just wanted to say thanks for hanging in there with me and being so patient, and above all, taking the time to read this trash. Lots of love. xx


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: holy crap it's been so long since i updated. i am so, so sorry. i hope this chapter halfheartedly makes up for it.

"Yes, of course." Thomas smiles, getting up and off the bed. I slowly extract myself from the covers, placing one of my hands in his outstretched one and allowing him to lead me across the room to where the standing coat rack was. I didn't notice the French doors behind it before, and he pushes them open to reveal a brightly lit bathroom decorated in more cobalt and white. "Feel free to use either the shower or the tub, whichever one you prefer. Towels are in that little closet there" —he gestures to another little door— "and soap and shampoo are all under the cabinet." He swiftly puts his lips to mine again, turning me around to face him before leaving the bathroom. Then his eyes widen, and he curses fiercely.

"Shit, Reyna! Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me that I hurt you?"

"Tom, I don't understand-" Then I look down to my thighs, the insides spotted in tiny drops of dried blood as evidence of my deflowering. Ah. I return my gaze to him and he's pacing again, hands running though his thoroughly-fucked hair. "Tom. Tom,  _stop_!" I yell, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders.

" _Damn it_ , that's what safewords are for! Now you probably-"

"Thomas, stop! Listen to me first before you jump to things!" I scream above him hoarsely,  _screw the dom shit for once_ , causing his voice to fall silent. "You remember how earlier you asked me whether a guy ever wanted me, and I told you I turned them down each time before now?" He nods.

I take a deep breath. "Well, when I meant I turned them down, I turned everything down."

Tom's already porcelain face turns deathly white. "You mean you haven't- you didn't-" he splutters, frozen in place. I look down meekly, face alight with blush in response. "Oh God, I just,  _oh God_..."

I take his face in both my hands and shake it gently. "Hey. Look at me." He opens his eyes, and there's something like exasperation and horror in them. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect first time, honestly. Thank you for...doing what you did back there." I run one of my thumbs along the line of his cheekbone in consolation, yet he still turns away. Sighing, I drop my hands and move to the shower, turning on the hot water until it steamed up the glass and rummage around in the cabinet before coming away with a bottle of vanilla-scented body wash. I go back to him, who's just standing there blankly, and tug at his hands, offering him the sweetest smile I can.

"Come take a shower with me, Tom. Please. I think it'll make both of us feel...cleaner."

He grabs me in response, brows furrowing with mischief and eyes sparkling back to their old selves as he hoists me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, giggling. I'm still laughing as he steps onto the tiles, grabbing the body wash bottle as we pass it, but my breath instantly whooshes out of me as he pushes his body against mine, trapping me against the wall. Crushing his mouth against mine, the kiss is all teeth and need and  _damn_  does it feel good. I'm moaning into his open lips again when he puts me down, nipping at my collarbone and taking the soap from my hand. Squirting a generous amount into the washcloth he's produced out of nowhere, Tom works it into a deep lather. 

"Turn around." I do so, and he starts scrubbing my back in tiny little circles, kneading out all the knots with his long fingers. A little whine escapes me, and I can feel the grin stretching across his face. 

"You like that?" he says as his hand moves down, giving my ass a squeeze as he soaped it up. He runs both hands down the back of each of my legs before finally turning me around. Dipping his head, he kisses me as my hands bundle up into little fists against his taut chest while he proceeds to scrub my arms and belly. Making sure to give my nipples a little tweak as he washes my breasts, he focuses the last of his attention to the place between my legs as I groan against the crook of his neck. Carefully washing the blood off them, I inhale sharply as Tom takes to stimulating me through the cloth skillfully, his fingers teasing my folds as his lips drew back to meet mine again hungrily. The body wash is slipping off me in rivulets, and the entire bathroom smells like it.

"I thought you weren't one for vanilla?" I tease, panting. 

"That mouth is going to get you into a lot of trouble, darling." he growls, throwing the washcloth aside. Picking me up again, he turns so we're both under the showerhead, the scorching water only adding to the quickly building arousal in my stomach. Our hips are grinding against each other, and I knot my fingers in his damp hair as the others reach to the back of his neck, practically mashing our faces together. Tom's hands snake down my sides, gripping them as he repositions his and then buries himself in me with one smooth move. I cry out, my hips bucking in rhythm with every undulated thrust of his as the water continues to rush down us. 

"Tom,  _please_..."

" _Fuck_ , you feel perfect." he breathes heavily into my ear. His hand moves to my hair as the other finds my clit and begins to massage it, earning him inhuman noises that tear out of my throat. My back arches again, bringing my breasts into perfect level with his mouth. Tom takes advantage of this opportunity and latches onto one, sucking on the nipple before moving to the other and still slamming into me. "Come for me again, darling."

The combination of his cock pulsating inside me, mixed with the scrape of his teeth against my nipples and his skilled fingers expertly tweaking my sensitive spot is more than enough to bring me to my climax. I let out an uncontrollable scream as my inner walls clenched around him, ecstasy wracking my already shaking body. White light bursts against my eyelids as every nerve becomes a live wire and I struggle to breathe. Tom roars as he comes inside me, curving his nails into my thighs so hard they'd leave little half-moons etched there. Slipping out of me moments later, he lowers me to my feet and holds me close as we both catch our breath, head resting on the other's shoulders and chests heaving. The falling water thrums a steady beat on our bodies, soothing away any soreness. For now.

" _God_...are you  _sure_  this was just your second time?" he gasps, and I have to laugh. 

"Promise." My chuckle is cut short by another moan as he kisses me hard, wrapping an arm under each of my thighs and hitching me up again as he turns off the water, literal steam emanating from our own selves. Padding out of the shower gently, he puts me down on the bath mat and goes to the closet, grabbing two fluffy white towels. Tom's already drying his hair off, and his locks stick out in every direction, which only makes him look that much sexier. I pat myself dry, securing the towel around my body and walking back to the bed before sitting on the edge. There's a tiny stain in the middle of the covers, and I cringe. I was probably going to pay for that later. My dress lays strewn at the foot of the chaise, and I have to give Alexander credit for picking white as a huge grin stretches across my face in the irony of it all.

Tom follows me soon after and joins me on the bed, peering over at the ruined bedding and only letting out a low chuckle. Pulling me into his arms, he purrs, "Still feeling clean, Miss Carlton?"

Smacking him with my towel was completely worth it.

 

My legs are still terribly aching, and sitting bent with them in the car is only making it worse. Thomas finally pulls up to the driveway of my flat, where a highly agitated Alex waits impatiently.

Crap.

"I'm going to try and pick you up Friday evening again next week, okay?" Tom murmurs, drawing my lips in with a heated kiss that seems like it could go on for ages. I have to break away, for Alex's sake, and it leaves us both panting. "If there's anything you need before then, call me."

"Yes, sir." He moves out of his seat to open the door, and then comes around to unlock mine. Placing my hand in his, I slide out of my seat, grabbing my clutch as I did so. Everything else was in a room of Tom's house that we agreed on, where I would be staying if I chose to. As we walk towards the driveway I can see Alex's eyes widen, and I realize how odd this must look to him. Thomas is in his simple business suit again, dressed for work, and I'm in black leggings and one of his t-shirts, a sky blue one with a v-neck that plunges down lower than any of my own clothes. I resist the urge to tug it up as we come to a standstill in front of the doorway, me unable to look my best friend in the face and instead staring at the pebbled ground. 

"Alexander. It's nice to see you." Tom greets smoothly.

"Hiddleston." he snaps back. I brace myself for some loud screaming after we get inside. 

Thomas turns to me and plants a swift kiss on my lips. "Friday." he breathes. I nod in return as he goes back to his car and drives off, one of Alex's broad hands pushing against the small of my back.

"Inside. Now." he says in a deathly quiet voice, the one that always scares me the most. I take my shoes off and then we're heading up the stairs, his hand still directing me. As we reach the top, Alex moves to the couch, gesturing for me to follow. With a gulp of nervousness, I keep my purse in my lap as I sit down next to him, absentmindedly tracing the little embedded diamonds on it.

"Where the hell were you all of last night and this morning?" he quietly asks, voice shaking in anger.

"I think you know the answer to that." I mumble, staring down at my fingers. He gets up abruptly, causing me to flinch. 

"Do you know how close I was to calling the police, Rey? Do you know just how  ** _DAMN_**  close I was?" 

I throw my hands up in the air in despair. "Why the fuck would you need to call the police, Alex?"

"BECAUSE I WAS WORRIED, FOR GOD'S SAKE! YOU ALWAYS ANSWER YOUR PHONE OR AT LEAST TEXT ME BACK THAT YOU'RE BUSY IN A MATTER OF HALF AN HOUR, HOW DO YOU THINK I FELT WHEN YOU HADN'T ANSWERED IN NINETEEN HOURS?!?!" he shouts, clenching and unclenching his fists. "DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY SCENARIOS RAN THROUGH MY HEAD?"

"Obviously not." I state, my own voice rising. Had I really stayed with Thomas for that long?

"THE ENTIRE TIME I WAS THINKING THAT THIS MAN WAS DOING SOMETHING TERRIBLE TO YOU! REYNA, YOU COULD'VE DIED!"

"Christ, Alex! Lower your voice! The neighbors are going to complain!" I say desperately. "I'm not dead am I?" But I can't keep my mouth from quirking up at the corners at Alex's assumption of what Tom was doing to me, and I grin into my lap. I wonder if I'll ever tell him the truth.

He obviously notices this and grabs my chin roughly, forcing it upwards as I let out a terrified shriek.

"Alex, WHAT THE FUCK!"

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?" he roars. "DO YOU ENJOY TORTURING YOUR BEST FRIEND LIKE THIS?!?! AM I EVEN THAT TO YOU ANYMORE, OR JUST SOMEONE TO SHARE RENT WITH WHEN YOU'RE NOT DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT WITH THAT MAN WHO KNOWS WHERE?!?!"

"Alex, LET GO!" I scream, shoving his hand off my face. And then I burst out laughing as a result of his question, my mind not working anymore with the fear and anger racing through it. 

"THEN TELL ME WHAT YOU'RE LAUGHING ABOUT! SOME PERSONAL JOKE BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU?"

"Only if you lower your goddamn voice." I gasp. He sits back down, white knuckles clenched. 

"Go on, then." he huffs.

"You thought Thomas was doing something terrible to me, when in reality it was the exact opposite."

Alex folds his arms across his chest, nostrils still flaring. "Is that so, hm? Then what exactly  _did_  he do to you?"

I flush deeply, suddenly very interested in the hem of Tom's shirt. I wasn't about to tell Alex everything, nor was I even close to being ready to do so.

But the answer was already so evident, so many clues given, and Alex makes his deduction.

"You  _fucked_ him, didn't you?" he whispers, tone dropping one too many octaves. "Am I right?"

I don't reply.

"Oh. My. God." Alex jumps up from the bed and starts pacing around the room, suddenly facing me. "You little whore. Seducing one of the most powerful business moguls in all of Britain. So that's what you were waiting for." he spits.

"ALEXANDER!" I scream, rocketing off the couch and hearing the clutch fall to the floor with a thump. "HOW DARE YOU!"

"YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE! YOU WANTED SOMEONE OF HIGHER STATUS THAN YOU! WHAT FOR, SO YOU TWO COULD BANG EACH OTHER IN A PALACE INSTEAD OF A NORMAL BED?"

"DON'T YOU  _ **FUCKING**  _DARE SAY THAT ABOUT THOMAS! OR ME! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ALEX, YOU NEED TO CALM THE  **FUCK**  DOWN-"

But he's already shaking his head in disbelief as he gets back up, grabbing his work clothes from where they were thrown over the loveseat and letting out a short laugh. 

"And to think, the Reyna I knew would never abandon everything for sex. How wrong I was."

" _Alexander_ **.** " My own hands are digging into the couch fabric.

"No." He turns to stop and look at me after gathering everything. "Don't you 'Alexander' me. God, I can't even bear to be in the same room with such a  _slut_."

The liquid venom in his voice makes me drop to the floor as I helplessly watch him. 

"I have work to go to. Actual  _fucking_ labor so I can afford to have a roof over my head and an education to support a family. But you wouldn't know that anymore, would you? I bet you can just  _suck his goddamn cock_  and he'll just tuck a thousand dollars into your underwear."

"Alex, wait, please, you don't know what you're saying." I plead with him,  _no, this isn't him, this isn't the Alex I love, it can't be-_

He merely looks at me once more before thundering down the stairs and slamming the door behind him so hard the whole flat trembles. 

My entire body is numb, a dull buzzing filling my head as my limbs move of their own accord. I feel like my heart has just been ripped apart to shreds, and I slump down on the couch as I extract my phone from the purse. Glancing at it for the first time since I put it away, I realize that it's turned off, and I desperately mash the power button as it reawakens. Almost instantly, the screen floods with notifications, stating I missed 21 calls and 59 text messages. 

Oh  _God_.

I scroll through the messages blankly, only catching fragments from them. A few of them were from Camryn, one from the hospital saying that they hope I feel better soon, and the rest are all Alex's.

" _hey hope your night is going good! (:"_

_"i know you're probs busy but reply when you can pls"_

" _is everything ok over there?_ _"_

_"reyna are you alright? you haven't replied. i'm getting worried. ):"_

_"dammit rey! answer me and tell me where you are so i can come pick you up"_

_"REYNA WHERE THE GODDAMN HELL ARE YOU I'M GOING TO CALL THE POLICE"_

That last one is noted with  _sent at 12:43 today_ , only an hour before I came home. I wonder if he'd actually follow true to his word if I didn't show up today. 

Maybe I shouldn't have.

I lie down and curl up on the couch, not caring about changing and pressing the phone to my ear as I replayed all the voicemails. Once again, a handful from Camryn and most of them from Alex. His detached voice rings through the entire flat, following a similar pattern as his texts, getting more and more urgent each time. I don't know when I close my eyes, but I'm gripping my phone tightly as I do so, savoring a voice I fear will never be meant for me again.


End file.
